Don't Cry Because It's Over
by d4202
Summary: Deathstroke hits the Outlaws hard trying to get to Nightwing. Now, they must all team up to take out a massive threat.
1. Chapter 1

A.N: I don't own any of the characters, and they are all property of DC Comics. This is a crossover between Nightwing and Red Hood and the Outlaws, and will involve Batman in later chapters. **WARNING: involves character death.**

Roy sat staring at the wall in silence, and couldn't bring himself to move his eyes to Jason's unconscious form lying by the door. Somewhere at the back of Roy's mind, he knew not moving the man after he had handed him Kori and passed out unceremoniously made him a bad friend, but the bigger part of his brain was telling him it didn't matter. Telling him nothing mattered. Jason was merely seven feet away, maybe dead, maybe dying, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

And the indifference didn't matter, either, because Kori, who had been handed to _him_, who was in _his _care, was dead. _She was dead._ Now, nothing mattered, except that he needed to find Jason's stash of booze, because obviously being strong and sober went out the window, too.

Jason woke violently, gasping for breath and pulling a gun out quickly, eyes wide like an untamed animal. He finally focused on Roy's blank face and lowered his weapon, groaning at the small movement and his attempt to sit up against the door. He didn't question the fact that he hadn't been moved, but he did wonder somewhat frantically why Roy was sitting on the couch with _that_ look on his face. He blinked back another wave of darkness, and tried to remember how he got here with a possible concussion and definite dislocated shoulder.

Then, he remembered. Remembered Deathstroke, remembered being told that this wasn't about him before being slammed repeatedly into a wall. He remembered not having time to call Arsenal before he began taking on six mercenaries, without guns or Starfire. He remembered picking her up after he found her, bruised and bloody and _scared_.

He remembered Koriand'r calling him Richard, and being completely fine with that because talking meant she was alive and alive meant he could save her. Only, the look on Roy's face said something different, something hopeless and alone and the exact opposite of salvation.

Jason cleared his throat, forcing the bile back down. Make that definite concussion. "Starfire?" he asked, and Roy finally looked at the younger man, only now hearing it click in his mind that Jason was barely 21. So damn young, but so much more mature than anyone else Roy had ever known, save maybe for Kori. Roy blinked a couple times in the silence, feeling the dried tear tracks on his face. Death ages a person, he realized.

"She's dead." Roy's voice was small and insignificant in the vast silence filling the room. "Her body is still in the bed."

"It was Drthsoke," Jason said. He sighed, fighting through the fog of his mind. "Deathstroke," he corrected. "He came specifically for her. He knew what he was doing. Brought m-, m-," another exasperated sigh, "mercenaries with him. Distracted me to get her alone and then took her down. 'm not sure how."

"It doesn't matter how," Roy said, eyes glued to his own hands, covered in royal blood.

Jason studied Roy's expression and again fought the urge to fall asleep. "I guess you're right," he said slowly. "What matters is why."

"He loves her," Roy said.

"What?"

"Nightwing. He loves her, or loved her, whatever. Deathstroke hates Dick, and Dick cares for her. You do the math." Roy stood up and moved towards Jason. He leaned down and gripped the other man's shoulder. "Ready?" Jason nodded, then immediately regretted it as his head began to swim.

Roy popped Jason's shoulder back into place. Jason barely felt it over his throbbing skull. Roy moved back to the couch. "Where's your scotch?"

"Over by the-" Jason stopped, realizing who he was talking to. "You better be talking about the tape, Herpar."

"I'm going to pretend you said my name right, and skip right to just tell me where it is. It's not like it matters if I drink or not."

Jason stood up slowly, hoping he didn't throw up as he did so. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. "You'll stay clean while I'm gone, because she would have killed you if you didn't."

Roy looked at him again, and the sadness was reemerging. He felt like he was drowning in shock and anger, and the waves were overpowering him, shoving him in all directions and leaving him disoriented and so very tired and- Roy finally heard Jason's words. "While you're gone?" he repeated.

"Someone has to tell Dick," he said passively, gaining the courage to look beyond Roy to the open bedroom door. He didn't know why, but he waited a bit to see if there was any movement. There wasn't any.

"Dick doesn't need to know from the one guy he can't stand."

Jason tried to be funny, but it just came out monotone and dry. His mind was too preoccupied with staying awake. "What are you talking about? He's such a _sweetheart_ to everyone."

"Well you don't really deserve it now, do you?"

Jason took a couple of wobbly steps to the couch and stood directly in front of Roy. "No, I don't. But I don't want _you_ to be there when he reacts, so it has to be me." He put his hands on either side of Roy's face, trying to comfort him in a way Ducra once did, but he realized quickly the warmth of Kori's hands would be more comforting than the sweaty messes Jason's were. "Stay clean, Roy. I need you to stay clean, because it _does_ matter. I'll be back for you."

Roy blinked back more tears. "How are you going to get to Gotham with a concussion? You should wait until it heals."

"I can't wait, not for this. We aren't that far away, which might be why we ran into Deathstroke. I'll be fine. I've driven a motorcycle under worse circumstances, and now we have the Jeep."

He went to get some water for the fifty mile trip, but thought better of it when he realized that would put him within range of seeing Kori, and he couldn't do that now. "Stay clean," he repeated. "I believe you're capable of that."

Roy had a brief flicker of a smile before returning to his blank stare.


	2. Chapter 2

Nightwing got a call at around 3 PM, which was unsettling because the caller ID said Bruce Wayne. He sat down and steeled himself for whatever was on the other line. "Hey, Bruce," he said cheerily.

"Hello, Dick."

The awkward pause and gruff voice told him this wasn't a tapped call, so he asked what was wrong and waited for his old mentor to continue.

"It's the Red Hood." Dick took notice of the choice of name. "He is currently driving through Gotham. It looks like he's on his way to see you."

"But he's not trying to fight us anymore. That doesn't make sense. Where has he been all this time?"

Another pause. Obviously, Bruce knew and didn't want to discuss it. "Just be on your toes. He's not loyal to us, or to anyone else."

"Okay, okay, I got it. Anything else?"

"Let me know why he's here."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Yes, sir," he said, then heard the click of Bruce hanging up. He was only mildly annoyed; Jason set everyone on edge just a bit.

At around 4 PM, the knock on the door came and, even though he knew who it was, Dick decided to look through the peep-hole, just to make sure a gun wasn't being pointed his direction. As soon as he saw Jason's queasy face and his hunched posture, he flung the door open. Jason barely looked up; he had worsened on the trip over. "Jason!" Dick exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Jason waved his hand instead of shaking his head. "Don't worry. Have to talk about something."

Of course, immediately after saying this, Jason Todd vomited in the hallway. Dick grimaced and pulled him inside to the bathroom. "Yeah, sure, we'll talk. What's wrong with you? Poison?"

"Concussion," he mumbled softly. "Sorry, Bruce."

"Bruce?"

"Nightwing. I mean Nightwing." Jason slid his eyes closed.

"Oh, no you don't. You're staying awake and I'm calling Alfred."

"Don't call Alfie. 'm fine. Don't call."

"Jay," Dick said, putting a cool hand on Jason's forehead, trying to wake him up a little more, "you really need help. Like, hospital help. So, I'm going to call Alfred."

Jason's head lolled back a bit. "Okay," he said.

Alfred got there in record time, but there wasn't much to do except keep Jason awake and monitor him. Nightwing left for patrol around 9 while the two made themselves comfortable in his apartment. The winter air in Gotham, though, had halted most crime, so he was back by 11. Jason looked at least somewhat better, what with his eyes no longer glazed over. He was at least aware enough to be uncomfortable. "How's the patient, Alfred?" he asked, attempting to rile his kind of-brother up, but to no avail.

"Better, now that his brain has stopped rattling," Alfred replied. "Since it seems the immediate danger has passed, I'll leave you two to catching up."

"Bye, Alfred," Dick said, and Alfred closed the door quietly behind him. Dick stood by Jason's place on the couch. Jason looked up at him, and the dark circles under his eyes caught Dick by surprise. Then, something else caught his attention. He grinned. "Are you wearing my prototype suit?"

Jason looked down to his chest underneath the jacket. "So what if I am?" he said, but it wasn't as menacing as he had wanted it to be.

"Don't get me wrong," Dick laughed, "my hand-me-downs are still awesome. I'm just surprised considering what's front and center."

"If you want me to take it off, I'll take it off," the younger growled, trying not to sound like he wouldn't, or couldn't.

"No, no. I like it." Dick smiled warmly when Jason looked at him, skepticism clearly written on his face. "I like that you're wearing something with the symbol, Jason. That's a step in the right direction."

Jason shifted uncomfortably and looked down. As much as he wanted this reboot of a relationship between them, it wouldn't last. Not after he said what he came here to say. "If you think so," he mumbled.

"Here's my question, though. Where'd you get it? I mean I haven't seen that suit since-" Dick stopped.

Jason look up again, apprehensive, scared even. Soon, he would piece it all together, and the few minutes Jason had as part of the family would be forever broken beyond repair.

"Did you," Dick paused, his mouth suddenly dry. "Did you get that from Kori?"

Jason stood up and grabbed Dick by the arm. "You should sit down, Grayson." Dick, dazed and confused, did as he was told.

"Did you get that uniform from Starfire?" he repeated, and Jason sat down again next to him.

"Listen. Some things happened after I left Gotham. Yeah, I met up with Starfire, but it was complicated. I know I should have brought her to you, or to the League, or _someone_, but there were certain circumstances and I-" he left out the fact that Roy also came to this decision- "thought it would be best if she had some new people around her. I didn't want her swallowed up by the past."

Dick was angry; it could be seen in the deep blue of his eyes. Still, he attempted to hold back. "Okay, fine. You kept her away because you didn't want her to be _you_. I get that. So, is that why you're here now? She got sick of you and wanted back with us?"

Jason swallowed his own anger. He couldn't go about this like himself. He had to be comforting. He had to be like _her_. "No, Dick," he said slowly. "She and I ran into a problem. It was Deathstroke."

Dick's eyes widened. He could feel in his soul what was coming next.

"I'm not sure how he did it, Dick. But, he hurt her. Bad. I tried to save her, but-"

"No!" Dick yelled, standing up and towering over Jason. "If you would have stopped being selfish, you would have brought her here, and then she would be alive! This is all on you! This is your fault!"

Jason stood up quickly, taller than Dick, then fought through his somewhat spinning head, yelling at him that this was the first time his failure got someone killed. "You're right, Dick. I should have protected her. But _Deathstroke _killed her. Do you understand? He was sending a message to you. You need to be more careful."

"Are you saying that her death is because of me?" Dick yelled, tears and rage blinding him.

"No! No," Jason said. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, you have no idea how sorry I am. But you _need _to listen. Deathstroke could be coming here."

"No, you listen to _me_!" Dick shoved Jason back on the couch. Jason blinked a couple of times, pushing back his again rattling brain. "You knew where she was, all this time, and you did nothing! How could you do that? How could you-" Dick stopped and took a half-hearted swing, but Jason spun him and sat him back down next to him, gripping Dick's bicep as he cried.

"It's okay," Jason said, but he could only manage to whisper it. He couldn't even look Dick in the eye.

"Get out! I don't want you here! You need to go," Dick sobbed.

"No can do, Dickie-bird," he said back. Remember what Kori would do, he reminded himself. "You're not in a good spot, and you need someone with you. And since I'm never in a good spot, I'm the one you should want around."

Dick stopped breathing heavily and struggling, and leaned a bit on Jason's shoulder. Jason willed himself to not screw it up.

They stayed like that, brothers sitting together in silence, for two hours, with Dick sniffling once in a while, and Jason wondering if Dick ever had this strong of a reaction towards _his _death.

"So," Dick started. "Deathstroke."

Jason sighed, unconsciously leaning on Dick as well. "Deathstroke," he repeated.

"I should call Bruce."

Jason tensed. "Are you cool if I leave?" He grimaced. It didn't sound that childish in his head, but hearing it out loud made him realize how much he _needed _this, regardless of why it came about.

"If you want to leave." Dick stood and moved towards the kitchen. Jason could hear his heart saying no, telling him to stay until Dick realized they weren't really brothers, were never close or happy together.

His brain remembered Roy, and he stood to leave. "Tell Batman-" again Dick noticed the way neither of them would use real names when they were talking of the other. The way they could make it personal- "that he was last spotted 54 miles east of Gotham, in this tiny ass little town. He mentioned to motive was to get to you. At least," Jason paused, remembering maniacal laughter after being told to tell the "big man" hello and before being blown up. "At least, that's what he suggested."

"He was trying to get to me," Dick repeated, leaning on the kitchen counter.

"If I find him, Grayson," Jason called, hand on the doorknob, "I'll call you. But, you know my way of doing things."

Dick didn't even try replying as he heard the door open and click closed once again. It was 1:30 in the morning and snowing outside, but Dick knew Jason would get wherever he needed to be. A few more tears escaped as he dialed Bruce's number.

"Hey," he said, and his voice cracked. "Can I come by the manor?"

Jason leaned again Dick's door, eyes shut, trying to stop the few tears that wormed their way to the surface. Once he gained control, he took the elevator down to his car.


	3. Chapter 3

Roy had sat alone on the couch for a while before anger set in and he started trashing the place. The couch was overturned, every lamp was broken, even the door to the bathroom had been ripped off its hinges. Everything was a mess, but it didn't look half as bad as Roy felt. In these moments of loneliness, he hated Waylon, for giving him someone to let down if he took a swig of the alcohol he easily found. He hated Starfire, for being anything he needed her to be and still managing to be her own person all the time. Mostly, though, he hated Jason.

Roy ground his teeth together. Jason Todd. Too proud to call him for help, too shut down to help anyone else. Damn him. This was his fault. No excuses. If it had been anyone else with Kori, she would be alive and well. He sat down in the middle of the chaos and sighed. That was a lie if he had ever heard one. He couldn't even lie to himself. He couldn't find comfort in anything.

Roy closed his eyes and tried to pray, but to who? Starfire had her own god; Jason pretended not to believe, but Roy had caught him a couple of times mumbling to the stars. Thinking back on it now, though, Jason was probably talking to Batman. He was messed up like that.

The lonely archer opened his eyes and pulled out his phone. He knew the number by heart, dialed and deleted it at least once a month. Did it still count as relapsing if the drug was a person?

He dialed quickly and hit "send." One ring. His thumb hovered over the "end" button. Two rings. He swallowed the lump of fear and raw emotion. Three rings.

"Roy?" He jumped and dropped the phone, but scrambled to pick it up quickly. "Roy?" the voice asked again.

"Ollie." The name came out like a breath of fresh air, and he was instantly ashamed. Why did he still want the love of a man who kicked him out? Jason constantly thought he had it bad, but at least the Gotham Knight never _told_ him to go.

"Roy." Ollie sounded the same as Roy had, and he felt a little better about that. "Thank God you're okay."

"What?"

"Red Hood told me everything. He said you would probably call."

"Oh," Roy said, running his hands through greasy hair. How long had it been since Jason had left? "I didn't know that."

"It doesn't matter. Listen to me: I don't care about any of it. Understand? None of the past matters. Just come home. We've both made mistakes and we both deserve a do-over. Please come home."

Roy blinked back disbelief. "Do you seriously mean that?"

There was no pause. "Yes."

"Wait," Roy said. "Jason. I can't leave him."

"I told him I thought you would do better with the League or with me. Or maybe mentoring the Titans. He agreed. Roy, for once, just listen to me. Come _home_."

"Okay," he said, getting up and running out the door. "Okay."

Back in Star City, Oliver Queen hung up the phone. He turned to the Red Hood.

"I said everything exactly the way you said to."

"And you meant it, didn't you?" Jason inquired, keeping the gun at his side but steady in his hand. It had taken him four hours to get to Star City, and he used that time to formulate a plan. Starfire stuck around, and she was a lot worse off for it. Arsenal wouldn't end up the same way.

"Yeah, I did, actually," Green Arrow said. Jason looked closely at him under the helmet; he was telling the truth.

"That's the problem with you capes," he spat. "Everyone's on the same page but too proud or stupid to admit it."

"He's killed people, Hood. That changes some things. Speaking of which, how did you get back on Batman's good side when you're carrying?"

Jason glossed over the question. "It doesn't change that you love him, and that should be enough. That _will_ be enough." Green Arrow nodded once, and Jason left without any smoke bombs or breezy windows. He just walked out the front door.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're sure he wasn't lying?" Bruce asked, and Dick resisted the urge to sock him in the face.

"I'm sure. It was very clear that she meant something to him. He wouldn't lie." Dick took a sip from his tea, eyes rimmed in red. They burned when he closed them.

"You can't know that for sure. Red Hood is a criminal."

"Actually, Bruce, I can be sure. Jason is a lot of things, but he doesn't lie. Everything he's said to us has been something he has truly felt, whether in that moment or all his life."

Bruce turned away from his eldest, choosing instead to gaze out the darkened east window. "The bottom line is he cannot be completely trusted."

"The bottom line is that she's dead!" The cup smashed against the counter, ceramic shards turning red with Dick's blood. Bruce whipped his head back the other man's direction.

Dick exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry. That was dumb. But I didn't come over here because of Jason, I came over here because Deathstroke needs to be stopped before someone else dies. Are you going to help me?"

Bruce was about to answer when the phone rang. He took the out and answered. "Hello?"

"Hey. It's Oliver."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. Alfred came in silently and began wrapping Dick's hand. "What's this about?"

"I was wondering if your boy was there. I have to," a pause and a sigh. "Well, I have to thank him. And tell him he was right."

Bruce looked over at Dick. "I don't know what you're talking about. What boy?"

"You know. Red Hood. Jason, I guess his name is. At least, that's what Roy said."

"Roy's with you?" Dick snapped to attention, now intently listening to the side of the conversation he could hear.

"Yeah. You don't know? The kid said he was running with you. That's why he was wearing the logo. You're telling me he's not?"

Bruce paused, assessing how to evade or ignore the question. He didn't have any eyes on Jason, but he had known rough locations and mission summaries. Red Hood was definitely not "running with" Batman.

"Hello?" Ollie said from the other end of the call. Bruce hung up.

"What about Roy?" Dick asked as soon and Bruce set his phone down.

Bruce himself was still shocked. There was a lot the detective needed to investigate. "He's back with Arrow. At least for the time being."

"Are you serious?" A smile came over Dick's exhausted face. "That's great! Is he clean? How'd he get out of jail? How did Green Arrow convince him to come home?"

"Jason," Bruce replied, as if the boy could solve everything. "Jason convinced him to go home."

Even Alfred stopped working in shock. Dick's eyes were wide with confusion, trying to understand how a self-exiled son convinced a kindred spirit to fly back to the nest. "He didn't tell me he knew Roy."

"I knew he had a team, but none of the intel told me he was with Arsenal. I assumed it was a mercenary team."

"Wow. Jaybird broke him out of that Middle Eastern prison. Wow," Dick whispered. "You think you know a guy."

Bruce eyed him from his side of the table, while Alfred looked at both of them warily. Straightening his posture, he left for the kitchen, and began making white chocolate macadamia cookies. They were Jason's favorite.

Jason was miles away in Star City, wondering why he had such a perfect idea of what was going on in the manor and watching the reunion between ex-sidekick and ex-mentor intently. He stopped wondering if that could happen to him a long time ago. The path he was on was a one way street, and it didn't help that no one was trying to get him home anymore. Capes, he thought bitterly. They're all the same. Bruce wanted him home; he was as sure of that as he was of the fact that he wanted to go home. But the Bat would never make the first step. Besides, even if he did, there was no doubt he would be subjected to some jail time before the happy ending. This wasn't a fairy tale. He may have woken up, but the only princess he knew was dead, and happily ever afters had blown up in his face years before this moment.

"I made a mistake," he whispered to the dark night sky, helmet and domino mask discarded and on the floor beside him. "But I can never go back."

"Are you talking to your god or your father?" a voice asked behind him, and he turned to see Starfire. She was there, on the rooftop, looking at him with those eyes that understood his pain. He could barely stand to look.

"Does it matter?" he asked back.

She didn't move any closer. "You are not surprised to see a ghost, Jason?" Her voice was almost teasing.

"Honestly? You're not the first one I've seen. Usually I just stay out of their way. I guess being dead yourself for a bit gives you a sixth sense." He shrugged nonchalantly and turned back to watching Roy.

Or, he should say, watching Roy and Ollie, as they watched TV as if the past few years hadn't been filled with fighting and withdrawal symptoms and prison. They were happy. Jason had been right about their relationship. They loved each other, and that was enough.

"Don't you ever get tired of staring into mirrors, Jason?" Now that he had fully acknowledged she was a ghost, her voice seemed farther away.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You see yourself in Roy. You see what you wish Batman would do in Roy's own mentor."

"I see an impossibility," he growled back.

"Do you?" she asked, close to him now. He swore he could feel her breath on his neck, warm and alluring. "Who is keeping you from returning home, Jason? Is it your father, or is it the fact that you won't even tell him how you feel?"

"How I _feel_?" he hissed, turning once again towards her. The flames from her hair bathed her in an ethereal light. If she were alive, Jason was sure half the city could spot them. "He knows how I feel, Koriand'r. He knows that I feel cheated, that I feel betrayed. He knows that my entire life revolves around being the unwanted black sheep, and he does nothing about it!" He wished desperately to touch her, to grip her arms and shake until she realized how much of a lost cause he was, but he could touch her, so he didn't even try. He relaxed his tensed muscles and asked her harshly, "Why are you here, anyway?"

"That is no way to talk at a reunion. Maybe that's why you won't go back, hm? Afraid they'll talk to you the same way?"

Jason stared at her, hurt evident in his eyes. Her smile, emanating mischief, faltered. She began to apologize, but he held up a hand to stop her. "It's my fault you're dead. Besides, you're right, anyway. No need to apologize."

"Actually-"

"Kori!" someone yelled, and all of a sudden the two turned and Roy was there, standing in the doorway of the roof stairwell, hair mussed and breathing heavy. Somehow, while they talked, Roy had exited his apartment, run across the street, entered this building, and sprinted to the roof.

"You can _see_ her?" Jason asked, taking a step towards Roy. "You can see her?" he asked again frantically.

"Woah, dude, chill. Of course I can see her. This is great! How is this possible? I can't believe you're alive!" Roy ran and embraced Kori, hugging her as tightly as possible, soaking in the warmth of her skin. Kori was too wrapped up in the hug to notice Jason's incredibly angry and manic glare, to see his entire frame shaking.

A shot went off in the air. Arsenal and Starfire got into fighting positions before they realized it was Jason. He looked to be in the middle of a panic attack.

"Jason?" Kori asked slowly, "What's wrong?"

"You are dead." The hand with the gun was still pointed towards the sky, but it was shaking. "How can he touch you if you're dead? How can he see you? Tell me!"

"Dude, calm down," Roy interjected. "_You_ came back from the dead."

His breath was wheezing out of him harshly and making clouds in the cold winter air. "Is this one of those dreams?" he managed to yell at them.

Kori and Roy looked at each other, confused. "Dream?" Roy asked.

"The dreams. Where I have to kill myself to wake up." His eyes were unfocused and crazed. The gun shook harder.

"Jason, stop this nonsense. Surely, you can believe that a person can come back from unexplained circumstances." Kori took a step towards him cautiously.

Jason trained the gun on her, and she backed right up. "Kori wouldn't be afraid. You're afraid. Kori wouldn't be," he said, mind moving a thousand miles a second, trying to make the right choice. This wasn't the first time, but he had never done it on purpose before. Honestly, he was scared.

Then the gun was to his own temple. "I don't remember how I got here," his voice croaked out, but he barely heard it over his beating heart. "I don't remember how I got here, but somehow I know things that happened when I wasn't even there. And I don't know how I know where Dick lives. Maybe I don't know. Maybe I'm dreaming and I don't know and you're dead!"

"Jay," Roy said, hands splayed in almost surrender. "You had a concussion. Please put the gun down."

"If I'm wrong," he started, and took a shuddering breath. "If I'm wrong, don't tell Bruce I killed myself. He'll think I'm insane, more than he does already. Tell him I was a hero. Make him think I was a hero."

"Jason," Kori said, but he cocked the gun. "No, wait. Jason, _no!_"


	5. Chapter 5

Jason woke violently, gasping for breath and pulling a gun out quickly, eyes wild like an untamed animal. Roy fell backwards from his crouching position in front of Jason when the gun's muzzle found its home right between his eyes. Jason held the gun with only one hand, as his other shoulder was dislocated. He felt blood trailing down the side of head. "Am I dreaming?" he gasped out, the pain in his shoulder and skull making it hard to concentrate. Roy blinked, stunned into silence. The gun was still pointed at his. "Am I dreaming!" Jason yelled.

"No! Man, calm down!" Roy sounded truthful, but then again. . .

"That's what the last you said!" Jason's face started quivering; he looked like he was about to cry. The gun turned on himself. "Wake up," he whispered harshly. "Wake up!"

"Okay, okay. Listen to me: what you are doing is _insane_. Jaybird, put the gun down before you hurt yourself." Roy was talking quickly, just as scared as the very confused and distraught Red Hood in front of him.

"Hurt myself. . .?" Jason trailed off, thinking it over in a mind that was only half working.

"Hey, Jay, I liked it a lot better when the gun was pointed at me. Let's go back to that, okay?" Roy knew the Kevlar in his uniform would protect him, unless Jason had armor piercing rounds. Then he would be screwed. But still, bullet to the torso would be far more survivable than bullet to the brain.

"My head hurts," Jason said. "I'm not dreaming. I'm not-" the gun dropped from his hand and he lay back fully on the ground. Both he and Roy sighed in relief.

So, Jason had passed out and handed Starfire to Arsenal. That much was true. The fight with Deathstroke had taken place, it was everything after that had been a lie. He swallowed his fear. "Kori?" he asked.

Roy moved over and helped Jason up. His left arm was dangling uselessly at his side. Roy leaned his team leader on himself heavily and Jason barely tried to stop him. "She's fine, dude. I came over to wake you up and you pointed a gun in my face like a crazy person! Seriously, you need to stop sleeping with those."

"Yeah, sure. Anyway, pop it back in." Jason braced himself and gestured towards his shoulder.

"Okay, okay. But then you're sitting down and we're checking out your head wound. Ready?"

Jason grunted in response. He felt the pop and crumpled into Roy's arms.

"Didn't know you were a cuddler, Jaybird." Roy moved him to the couch; the closest bed was occupied by Kori sleeping off her own wounds.

"Shut up, Harper." Roy touched the side of Jason's head tenderly. The bleeding had stopped, but there was a lot of caked blood and there was no doubt in Roy's mind Jason had a concussion. "Hey," Jason said, and Roy stopped working. "Call Nighting. Tell him we have Deathstroke problems."

"Why didn't you call _me_ when you first ran into this problem?"

"I was a little busy getting my head smashed into a wall repeatedly," Jason grumbled.

"Yeah, you're lucky you were wearing that bucket," Roy laughed.

"Just call. Tell him we have Deathstroke problems."

"You said that already. Before we call, you're getting your head checked by someone who has actual experience. This is no bueno, man."

Jason sighed, exasperated and tired. "Then call Batman, too. He can fix me up and help us fight."

Roy stopped. "Call Batman? _You_ just asked me to call _Batman?_"

"Dick will do it anyway. Plus, the big man will want in on someone going after his favorite."

"I am so worried for your brain cells right now," Roy said, but pulled out his phone and called Dick.

"Don't tell him you were part of the decision-making process of keeping Starfire here. You two are actually friends and he'll be pissed." Jason closed his eyes and leaned back.

Roy flicked his nose and grinned when Jason's eyes snapped open. "No sleeping. That's like rule number one."

"No, rule number one is touch me and I keep the hand." Jason glared as hard as possible, but to no avail as Roy dialed, smirking. He tried making out the conversation, but the edges of his vision blurred into blackness and it wasn't long before he was slumped sideways unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

Kori woke up groggily, her eyes only half opened. Her wounds were healing fairly quickly, especially with the rays outside filtering through the open window.

She didn't notice much, but she did make out the figure of a familiar man. When he saw that she was awake, her pushed her orange hair out of her eyes.

Dick prayed she would remember the good times, and forgive him of the bad. Kori wanted desperately to say _anything_, but she was still tired, and so her eyes closed once again and she was asleep.

It had been two hours since he showed up, screaming in rage.

"Woah, woah, chill!" Roy called back at him. "She's fine, and _asleep_. Emphasis on the sleeping thing."

"Okay, fine. I can be calm," Dick said evenly.

Roy snorted and started laughing. "I'm sorry. It's just that when you try not to sound pissed you end up sounding like your brother."

"Well, that's probably the worst I've ever been insulted."

"Aw, Dickie, don't be like that! He's a lot better when the smog of Gotham isn't messing with his mind. Besides, you shouldn't turn your back on family, you know?"

"Yeah, well, someone should tell _him_ that!" Dick sighed and leaned against the front door of the small house. He hadn't even been inside yet, and already he was at odds with Jason.

"You can tell him yourself if he ever wakes up," Roy said seriously.

Dick looked at his friend's face. The concern for the younger team leader was visible, and Dick was almost surprised. Jason, or at least the Jason that Dick had known, didn't make friends or lead teams. He was too angry for things like that, too focused on a mission to prove something. Then again, Dick never would have thought Red Hood would leave Gotham, or stop tormenting Batman. "If he wakes up?" Dick finally asked.

"He passed out with a concussion. He's been out for a while now. Of course he woke up before, pulled a gun on me and everything, but then he went down for the count again." "I called Batman, but I'm not sure if he'll show. I didn't know to tell him Jay was in trouble." Dick suddenly didn't want to go inside and see the unconscious vigilante.

Roy sensed the change in his friend. "You know," he said slowly, "he carried Starfire out of there. Even after getting his butt handed to him. She's alive because of him."

"And they're both hurt because Deathstroke wanted to get to me."

"Nope!" Roy called in a mock sing-song voice. "That would just be Kori. Technically, the only reason Jason got hurt is because Deathstroke needed him distracted, and decided skull-bashing was the best choice."

"Oh, yeah, thanks for that," Dick mumbled.

"Listen, man. I'm not trying to be a jerk, but you need to understand something. Your ex-girlfriend and your brother are cornered, and even Deathstroke knows you'll be more upset if he kills the ex you haven't seen in years." Roy put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "And you don't see a problem in that?"

"Jason and I are," he trailed off. How does someone explain that they never gave some stupid kid the time of day and that kid grew up to hate them so much he's tried to kill them more than once? "We aren't normal brothers. He's _estranged_ for a reason. He doesn't want to be a part of the family."

Roy laughed almost bitterly. How many times had Oliver said almost the same exact thing, he wondered? "Jason is a jerk," Roy said. Dick wasn't sure where he was going with it, so he remained silent. "He's really controlling, and insulting, actually. He doesn't like when people touch him, or give him nicknames, or generally act like they know him. And, sometimes, it sucks, but other times, it's possible to see that that's all just an act. Sometimes you can just _tell_ he cares."

Dick was still confused. "Why are you telling me this? I know what he's like."

"No, you don't know what he's like. That's the point. _No one_ knows what he's like. What we're seeing is what he thinks he has to be, what he's built up around himself. Now, because I'm possibly a glutton for punishment, I'm sticking around to find out what's underneath. He deserves that much. Everyone in this little team we have going here does. And the only thing I've found out so far is that he _wants_ his family, Dick, but he can't get them so he gets Kori and I instead."

Dick looked directly into Roy's eyes, and hovering just under the surface of fun and twinkling green was the darkness of an abandoned son, a desperate druggie. But, even beyond that, there was Roy. Indescribable, unpredictable, Roy Harper. Dick smiled. "You're a good friend," he said.

Roy grinned. "I'll have to get that in writing later. Come on, let's go inside."

Of course, as soon as Roy opened the door, Jason's gun was there to meet him yet again. "Not this again," he whined, and put his hands up. Nightwing instinctually stepped in front of the archer.

"Are you okay, Jason?" Nightwing asked in the most soothing voice possible. He took notice of the dried blood and unfocused eyes. This did not bode well for any of them.

"You two are going to drop any weapons you have on you and tell me what you did to me! And don't think I can't aim with whatever drugs you've slipped me." Jason's voice was somewhat slurred; if they didn't get him to calm down soon, a turn for the worse was imminent.

"Wait. You think _we_ did something to you?" Roy asked.

"I know you're with Nightwing in the Titans. So one of you is going to tell me why I just shot myself and woke up in some safe house!"

"Jason, calm down. This is _your_ safe house. Do you not remember what happened this morning?" Roy stepped out from behind Dick.

Jason's gun faltered just a bit. "I. . . Deathstroke? And. . . I don't. . . Is this a dream? Am I dead again?" His eyes were wide with fear, something Dick had never seen in Jason before.

"Dream?" Dick whispered frantically to Roy.

"Jay, you're not dead and this isn't a dream. Don't do anything stupid."

Jason's now shaking hand turned, once again, on himself. Dick stopped breathing. It was totally unreal. Even when Jason was a villain, Dick regarded him as the strong brother. He was too stubborn not to be. Even _death_ couldn't keep him.

"I'm really sick of doing this," Jason whispered.

"Trust me, me too," Roy said. "Think about it. You are not dreaming. Please, it'll all come back to you, just sit back down and think about it."

The hand with the gun dropped to his side and Jason fell back on the couch exhausted, with just a hint of recognition on his face. "I asked you to call Nightwing."

"Yeah, you did," Roy agreed, dropping his hands to his sides. "I really should take all your toys away from you."

Jason's mouth tipped upwards in a reluctant smile. Dick was still holding his breath. "Anyone care to explain what's going on? Like, right now?" Dick managed to wheeze out.

"Like I said, concussion."

"No," a voice said from behind them, and they looked to see that Batman had arrived, the darkness of his form in stark contrast with the ocean and sand behind him in the doorway. "He's been poisoned."

Instinctually, Jason's hand tightened around the gun.


	7. Chapter 7

"Would it kill you to say something before you barge in?" Roy complained, and Dick rolled his eyes and laughed.

"That's not his style," Jason growled out. They looked _too_ comfortable together in front of him. With Dick and Roy acting like the old Titans buddies they were, there was no place for him. He was so tired of having no place. "He doesn't want you to know he's there, which makes me wonder: _Why the Hell is he here?_"

"You told me to call Nightwing _and_ Batman," Roy said. "So I called Dick and told him to alert the Big Man about our problem." Batman narrowed his eyes at the nickname and chose to ignore the conversation.

"I don't have an antitoxin, so you'll stay here with Starfire while we track Deathstroke."

"No!" Jason yelled, and he couldn't help but notice he sounded exactly like before, when Bruce had told him he needed time off from Robin. "I'm going, and I've changed my mind. I don't want you here. We can take care of ourselves."

"Jay, calm down," Dick started, but Jason stood up, frantic now, the toxin and the family reunion coursing through his veins and messing with his mind.

"You've been here for three seconds and already know I'm poisoned? And you're giving orders? No way. We're out of your jurisdiction. Get out."

Batman took a step forward, trying to calm the ex-Robin down. His nose was bleeding, and the over-exertion was pumping the poison through him rapidly. The detective wasn't sure exactly how it worked, but it had to be stronger than fear toxin to still be affecting him. "Jason, you're injured and not in your right mind. Let me help you."

Bruce's calm voice only agitated Jason further. He took two long strides to stand right in the other man's face. Jason was only shorter by a couple of inches. Dick tensed, waiting for a fight.

"You should remember, before I met you, I was just a kid stealing to survive!" Jason yelled, and there were tears welling in his eyes. Batman noted a lowering of inhibitions as a possible symptom; he couldn't imagine a normal Jason would tell him this. "I didn't want _anything_ from you. I didn't want a home and I didn't want a father! I knew what I was doing. I was just Jason Todd. _You_ made me this. I was just. . . I was Jason. I didn't want anything. . ." Jason's voice broke and he collapsed into Batman's arms, but shoved the older man roughly when he regained enough strength to stand on his own. "Give me back my gun," he ordered Roy, who had picked it up off the couch during the fight.

Roy shook his head no. "Sorry, Jaybird, but you Batboys are shaving years off my life as it is. I'm not throwing bullets into the mix."

Jason glared at his teammate. "I don't need a gun to kill you," he said dangerously, in the most intimidating voice Roy had ever heard coming from him. "And I don't need that gun. I've got plenty of others."

Batman's hands were fists at his sides.

"You know what I think?" Dick asked, and he and Jason locked eyes. "I think someone should check on Kori." Dick began to leave for the bedroom, and lightly brushed Jason's shoulder with his own as he walked past, conveying as much comfort as his younger brother would allow. With Dick gone and Roy still in the room, it tipped the scale in Jason's favor.

Jason sat back down, taking a deep breath, more at ease now. Dick looked back one last time, and wondered somewhat sadly how it was possible for someone to be more relaxed when their family wasn't around. Roy had been right; Jason was a better person outside the Gotham City limits.

After a bit of silence, Roy sat down next to Jason, who seemed to be more in control of his emotions. "So," he said, and gingerly placed the gun on the coffee table. "Do you know when you were dosed?"

Jason sighed. He really didn't want to play along, knew it would be more in character if he didn't. "I'm not sure. It could have been on the blade. Deathstroke cut my arm before he kicked me to the mercenaries, but it was shallow. It doesn't matter, anyway. I wasn't the target, Starfire was."

"We don't know that for sure. You were poisoned by something that has been affecting your mind for almost an entire day. That matters." Batman took one more step inside, but didn't sit down.

Roy thought it over, but Jason seemed to know better. "He meant to kill her himself. I was pushed to the side, probably dosed to keep me even more distracted. What he did to her was personal. What he did to me was collateral damage."

"How can you be so sure?" Roy asked, eyeing the closed bedroom door.

Jason dropped his eyes to his hands before looking up directly at his old mentor. "After I came back, I looked at a lot of serial killer profiles, criminal psychology papers, things like that. What the Joker did to me screams personal. Beatings usually do. Poison does not. The main target was Kori. Trust me, I know."

Roy put a hand on his shoulder, but Jason weakly shrugged it off. Batman just stood, staring at Jason, and every part of him was screaming _my son, my son,_ but he stood stoically and made no move of comfort. "Can you tell me the symptoms? How you're feeling?" he asked instead.

Jason weighed his options. Tell him, and become vulnerable in front of a teammate and a man who pretended to love him. Don't tell him, and leave all this crazy in his head to mingle with all the other crazy that was already there. Jason almost smiled; he was sure there was a picture of him next to "no-win situation" in the dictionary. "Headaches, I guess. But that could still be from head trauma." He paused, trying to remember everything. "Losing consciousness. Vivid dreams. Not like fear toxin dreams, though. It's really hard to tell what's real and what's fake. That's probably the biggest symptom."

"Tell him how you figure out if you're dreaming, Jay."

"No. That's irrelevant." Jason glared at Roy, praying he'd shut up.

"Tell me," Batman said, in the softest voice he could muster behind the cowl.

"I kill myself." Jason looked back down at his hands. "Add lack of self-control to that symptom list."

"Well, _that's_ the opposite of healthy behavior," Dick said as he came of of Kori's room. "You're lucky you haven't made a mistake yet."

"Or maybe I did and now I'm in Hell," he scoffed. "I'd say this is pretty nasty punishment, right? Stuck in a room with a brother and a father you almost had once upon a time?"

"Jay," Dick started, but Jason held up his hand.

"I can safely say those are the drugs talking," he said, but his voice was strained and sad. "Now, who's up for finding Deathstroke?"


	8. Chapter 8

"We got caught jumping roofs two miles from here. Walked right into a trap. I told her to take to the sky, but something caught her by the ankle. He slammed me into the brick, told me this wasn't about me, and literally kicked me off the building into the mercenaries below." Jason exhaled slowly, drinking water and using the pause to look at the others. "There were six of them. Four are dead."

Batman clenched his jaw, resisting his better nature to say that death, that _murder_, was wrong. Jason wouldn't listen anyway. He had given up on that part of his son, maybe all of him.

Jason saw that he had given up and couldn't help but feel incomplete and alone. "It was self-defense," he mumbled sadly. "You're allowed to kill in self-defense."

"What?" Roy asked. Even sitting next to Jason he couldn't hear him.

"Nothing."

"Okay, moving on, how do we _find_ him now?"

The bedroom door tentatively swung open, and both Dick and Roy stood and turned to the princess. "I believe I can help you with that," she said, and she held onto the door for support. "How are you feeling, Jason?"

"Why?" asked Jason sharply, and he also stood. "I wasn't the target. You were. I walked you right into that trap."

"That's not your fault," she said, moving over to the couch and pressing a hand to his face. "There is great unrest in you, Jason. More than usual. What's wrong?"

Jason leaned into her touch. Damn drugs making it hard to suppress who he really was. "The first time I woke up, you were dead. Then I had to shoot myself to wake up again. But somewhere through that I passed out again, and shot myself again, and passed out, and shot myself, and now I'm here wondering if it's real. I feel like I'm going insane."

She frowned and pulled him to her in an embrace. Everyone else's eyes widened. Jason hugging? Obviously the end times. Dick couldn't help but smile, though. If someone could help his wayward brother, it was Koriand'r. "You are awake now," she said. "And I am fine. We will find Deathstroke and end this."

Jason closed his eyes and took in her scent. How long ago was it that he had thought that sweet and unique smell was gone forever? "Yeah, about that. We can't kill him. Not that I don't want to, because I really want to, but if we pursue it that way, we'll have two fights on our hands, and we can't fight a war on two fronts right now. We'll have to play by our guests' rules for the time being."

Kori smiled softly. Dick wondered quietly if it was a smile of pride at his decision. If that was what she had wanted all along. "That's fine. I am not bothered by your decision. You saved me and now you wish to protect us once again. That is enough."

Yeah, Dick would really have to talk to her about it, once their little reunion took place. "Hey, Koriand'r? Before we find Deathstroke, can we talk?" Dick shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Kori looked at him, and lived a thousand memories in those few seconds of silence. She felt confusion and anger and overwhelming love, and she wanted desperately to let the emotions knock her down, wash over her. But, she was still holding onto Jason; fragile Jason, who was always a step away from becoming the most cunning villain she had ever met, and a step away from crawling back to his own coffin.

"There will be a time for that later. I promise," she said. Dick frowned a bit, but nodded in agreement. Jason slipped out of her arms and felt the cool air settle on his chest. His cheeks felt hot with embarrassment.

Jason cleared his throat and relaxed his shoulders. His stance screamed what they thought of him before: cool, unattached, a complete mystery. Now, though, the spell had been broken, and they saw him for what he really was: an orphan twice over, a kid barely at drinking age who had lost all his innocence a few lifetimes before this date. "Starfire, you said you could find our prime suspect?"

Kori nodded. "I found this when I woke up. They seem to be coordinates." She handed the paper to him, and Jason took only a glance before gaping wide-eyed at the tiny slip.

"What?" Dick asked, but Jason couldn't speak. Everything clicked into place. It was exactly what he would do if he was still targeting the family. Target the ex, draw Dick out. With the favorite child in crisis, the father follows. Leaving the home front unprotected.

"Gotham," he said, and the paper dropped from his hand. "It's Gotham."


	9. Chapter 9

The chaos that followed went in slow motion for Starfire and Arsenal. Those connected to Gotham became a flurry of black and red. There were calls made, satellite feeds hacked, anger taken out on anything around them. Arsenal noticed that Red Hood had only taken a few steps to grab for his gun and his mask. Roy went to join him by the table.

"Are you working with him?" Batman bellowed, and the chaos stopped around him.

Red Hood looked at Batman silently, the hood not hinting at any emotion. The two of them stood just a few feet away from each other, but their positions seemed so far apart. Jason fought every urge to shoot the man. 'This is his city,' he reminded himself. 'He cares about the city more than anything.' But his even deeper heart yelled at him, accused him. 'He's right. This is your fault. Run before they kick you out. Run!'

Nightwing moved swiftly from Batman's right, turned toward the man, and punched him. Jason's eyes widened. He was completely confused, and maybe a little amused.

"Are you done?" Nightwing asked, and Batman glared at him. "Because I sure as Hell am. Jason called _us_. He wears that symbol on his chest even though you barely acknowledge him. He plays by your rules when you're around even though it looks like you've given up. He tells us what that assassin is planning, and you ask him _that_? What's _wrong_ with you? He finally looks like the son you _failed to save_ and you ask him if he's working with the guy who almost killed Starfire!" Dick moved to stand by Jason, and looked right into the younger man's eyes. "We're in your territory. What's the plan?"

Jason blinked. Once. Twice. Three times before he finally found a voice. "You and Bats should go back to Gotham, and take either Arsenal or Starfire with you. If we can corner him there then we can stop him, but we still have no idea what he's planning with this drug, or why he was watching us in the first place. Whoever doesn't go with you to Gotham will investigate here with me at the place of first encounter."

Nightwing nodded, then turned to a very angry and very silent Dark Knight. "We're going, and we'll take Starfire with us. She seems fully healed, right, Kori?"

Kori's eyes blazed with fighting spirit, while Roy muttered, "Oh, Dickie, I'm so shocked you chose her."

Dick rolled his eyes. "We'll touch base once we get there. Once this is over, you and I are talking though, Jason."

"Yeah. Sure."

Roy glanced from first Robin to second Robin and could not for the life of him figure out why Jason hadn't turned into that which came before. Was he on that path before he died, or did he never have a chance to experience happiness the way Dick Grayson does?

Did they write him out of the family history, or did he erase his own name? For Roy, it had always been the former, and he had left in a flurry of rage and betrayal, never looking back. After he got clean, he made a deal with himself: he loved Ollie, and he would always be open to being loved by Ollie, if Ollie made the first step. After the crap he's waded through, he deserved family on his terms.

Jason loading his gun carefully snapped the archer out of his thoughts. "You forget how to do that or something?" Roy laughed.

"No," Jason defended quickly. "I'm just making sure I know what I'm doing, since you never have any clue."

"That is pretty true," Roy conceded.

Jason put his gun down and looked at his hands for a second. Roy had seen this happen only a few times, and came to the conclusion he was looking for blood there. Roy inwardly sighed and Jason put down his hands. "Once we're done here, we're going to figure our pasts out. You, me, Kori. We're going to deal with everything." Jason looked directly at Roy. "You're going to call Green Arrow and tell him how you feel."

Roy felt alarm bells go off in his head. Last time Red Hood tried to deal with the past, he had almost burned it to the ground. "Why?" Roy asked him.

"Because when the future gets rough, the past is what you turn to for comfort. We have good memories back there somewhere, Roy, but they're buried by the six feet of crap we're too stubborn to sweep away. If something were to happen to me, wouldn't you like to remember us sitting on the beach and _not _the past day or however long it's been?"

Roy didn't answer. Later, much later, he would wonder if maybe Jason had known what was going on all along.


	10. Chapter 10

Nightwing left his bike outside the safe house and opted instead to ride with Batman in the jet, but only because it was faster. Needless to say, Nightwing was pretty mad at the man that sat silently to his left. After all the insanity and pain, he had finally seen Jason at the end of the tunnel, but Bruce had taken dynamite to that dream; not intentionally, but disastrous all the same.

"He's not the only son I have to look out for," Batman said suddenly, barely audible over the roar of the engine.

Nightwing stared straight ahead. He knew without turning Batman did the same. "What do you mean?"

"Jason has a very large sense of entitlement. It's probably due, in equal parts, to the manner of his life and death. He feels that because of these hardships, I am obligated to love him and obey his will. But I have other duties. To Gotham, to Tim, to Damian." He paused. "To you. I can't become what he wants when he wants."

Dick clenched his fists. He saw that it all made sense, and he knew Jason saw that, too, and the fact that he saw it only made him clench his fists harder. Because what Jason wanted, what Dick truly knew that Jason wanted, wasn't supposed to make sense. It was supposed to be irrational and comforting; two things, Dick was sure, Bruce could never be. "Doesn't it bother you that you can rationalize the alienation and abandonment of your most vulnerable and hurt son?"

There was silence in the cockpit, but the tension in the air said it all: this conversation was over. Nightwing sighed inwardly. No one ever won when it came to Jason Todd. Not even the Red Hood himself.

"This passing of judgment will have to wait," Starfire said through the communicator in a clipped tone. Nightwing winced; she had heard. "It seems we have company ahead, over Gotham airspace."

Three planes, what looked to be unmanned drones, hovered in the distance, directly over downtown Gotham. Starfire flew ahead, fire trailing behind her. One drone broke off from the pack to meet her, guns blasting with energy. She dove low to avoid it and flipped underneath the aircraft, which turned hard left to dodge her attack. The two other drones waited, hovering, for the Bat.

Batman narrowed his eyes and slowed the jet a bit. Nightwing didn't notice as he was watching Starfire's fight intently. Every time she got close, the drone maneuvered out of her way unpredictably. This meant it wasn't an algorithm. Someone was controlling it remotely.

"This doesn't make sense," Batman said. "Deathstroke has decided to target you personally. But he has drones meeting us. That's cold, impersonal."

Starfire finally grabbed a hold of the drone's wing and ripped it off the plane, swinging it off into the atmosphere. Nightwing's heart rate slowed as the drone immediately fell to the ground.

"He could be controlling them from a safer place," Nightwing suggested as the two remaining aircrafts split apart from formation. One shot Kori in the back, but she fell only a few feet before turning and engaging in another firefight. The other turned towards Batman's jet.

"Unlikely. If he was in the area, he'd taunt us. Taunt _you_. Call Red Hood."

"Why? Do you think they're in trouble?" Nightwing had already changed radio frequencies and began to signal for Arsenal and Red Hood.

Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure yet."

Three hails and thirty seconds of radio silence did nothing to calm the acrobat. "No answer," he said grimly, and already had about a thousand scenarios rattling in his mind.

"That means nothing," Starfire grunted, dodging and attacking in the same swift movement, hoping to hit something that would make the drone go down.

"Focus on the fight at hand, then we'll go back." Batman ordered.

Three more drones appeared on the horizon.


	11. Chapter 11

Roy followed Jason to the scene of the crime. They had waited on their motorcycles for the police to leave, and it was almost night before they got anywhere close. "Batman and company should be in Gotham by now."

Jason grunted in reply.

"Should we call?"

Red Hood scoffed, almost annoyed. "Don't call. You only call if there's an emergency. Checking in isn't something Batman does." Jason paused for a beat, considering. "He's got a good system."

Arsenal almost tripped over his own feet. "Are you _admiring _him?"

Jason turned swiftly in Roy's direction and glared. Suddenly, he heard laughing and looked frantically in every direction, pulling out his gun. "Do you hear that?"

Roy listened intently. "Hear what?" he asked, but pulled out an arrow anyway.

"That laughing," Jason replied, searching the rooftops. The laugh seemed to be all around him. It wasn't the Joker's laugh- he knew that like he knew the back of a crowbar- but it was maniacal all the same, and he tightened his grip on the gun.

"Hello, Red Hood," a voice said, and it replaced the laughing rattling around in his brain. "How are you feeling?"

Jason growled and kept looking around wildly. Roy followed Jason's movements, but he couldn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary.

"I hope you've figured out by now, _Jason_, what I'm trying to accomplish here." The voice gained volume; his head was pounding. "I hope you know what exactly is going to happen to you."

"Hood," Roy said, "is this the time when I should call?"

"No!" Jason yelled. "Don't call. We don't need him."

"That's a lie, Jason," the voice said smoothly. "You need him to protect you, to love you, but it's much too late for that. Old enemies have paid a lot of money for your head, and you'll be one of my favorite kills."

"Deathstroke," Jason spat. "How are you in my head?" Roy was still confused when he heard his comm link beep. "Don't answer that!" Jason yelled. It was getting hard for him to keep moving. He really needed to lie down. Or punch something. His eyes closed, Jason breathed slowly through his nose.

"The drugs have been pumping perfectly through your system, as you can _hear_," Deathstroke laughed. "Crane can do wonders when he has the right incentive." The voice became an echo; Deathstroke, wherever he was, was getting closer. "Since you'll be dead soon, and I'm going to get a lot of money for your corpse, I'll have a little fun with you sharing some secrets."

"Why-"

"Why you? Why the deception? That's an easy one, Hood. As for the motive, the crippled drug trade in Gotham was willing to pay anything to see your pretty helmet as a trophy on their wall. Now, from our last get-together, I realized that the direct approach doesn't really work. The best way to get to you, Jason, is to pretend I'm gunning for _someone better_."

"Makes sense," Jason said grimly, but then gasped as every memory of Dick, every memory of feeling inadequate flashed through his mind. He landed harshly on his knees. Roy ran over and picked him back up. Jason leaned heavily on his teammate.

"Another perk to the drug, which has just a hint of fear toxin in it for good measure, is that you're extra perceptive to my voice coming through a modulator at just the right decibel. Which means if I bring something up, your mind responds in the way you just experienced. Because here's the other thing I know about you: you may be in peak physical shape, but your mind is about 70% _gone_."

His violent psychotic break after the Lazarus Pit came back to him, finding out about his replacement hit him like a ton of bricks, Batman's abandonment, Sheila Haywood's betrayal, every night spent crying and screaming in a dirty apartment in Crime Alley, every motorcycle ride that took him to the edge of Wayne Manor made him drop the gun and start hyperventilating. "Call," he wheezed out. "Call!"

"It's too late for that, little boy. I've been working at your mind for a while now. This is just the end."


	12. Chapter 12

The plane spun to the left as two more drones bore down on the boys. Starfire levitated about them catching her breath, relatively unharmed. The two remaining paid her no attention, focusing fully on the plane that was now leaking fuel.

As Nightwing braced for another roll, a call came through the communicator. "What is it?" he yelled over the roar of lasers and warning chimes.

"It's Arsenal," the other man said. "Jason's flipping out. He says Deathstroke is in his head. We can't see him and I'm kind of at a loss here. We need you guys."

Nightwing let out a frustrated growl. "We're a little bit preoccupied here. We've got unmanned aircraft troubles. How long has he been freaking out, and how real is this threat?"

"It's real! He's not crazy. Okay, well, he's not _that _crazy. Drop the toys and get back over here."

"We can't," Batman said. "They're threatening Gotham, we have to stay here. Get Red Hood out of the area and that will probably calm his mind."

There was a pause, the sound of running in the background. "I-I'm not with him."

"_What?_"

"He told me Deathstroke had to be close by! I'm running around trying to find this guy."

"Get back over there and get him out of the area!" Batman bellowed, probably deafening Arsenal on the other line. _Careful, Bruce, _Nightwing's cynical side thought to himself, _your fatherly affections are showing._

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Arsenal yelled back, just as panicked. "He's not leaving. Apparently Deathstroke said the symptoms we haven't uncovered yet from the drug are going to kill him. He wants to know what, and he's stubborn enough to pull a gun and tell me to run. He's Red Hood; I thought you knew this kid! He does whatever he wants!" Arsenal panted for air for a second before resuming his run on the rooftops. Encroaching darkness wasn't helping; Green Arrow was more of a daytime vigilante, and Roy had been too busy scoring drugs at night to ever get used to the dark.

"Kid," Nightwing repeated, lost inside himself even with the chaos around him. "Just a kid. He just turned 21." Nightwing blinked, didn't even brace himself for the twists and turns of the dogfight he was in. When did Jason stop being a kid to him? If anything, he should still be that 16 year old that annoyed the crap out of him. But, somehow, Jason had become older; the farther away he was, the easier it was to not think about how young he had been when he died, or how old he was now. Jason was young, and scared, and they had left him. "Screw Gotham!" he finally yelled. "If it was Tim, I would go. If it was Damian, if it was you, if it was Barbara, I would be gone in a heartbeat. Why the Hell would I debate this because it's Jason? We're turning around! Let the GCPD handle this!"

Batman opened his mouth to speak, but another voice interrupted from the comm link. It was Jason, his voice incredibly small and weak, and it filtered through just over the static of the transmission. "Bruce?" Batman stopped paying attention to anything other than the voice, his mind once again screaming _my son, my son_. All training, all focus was gone as he waited for Jason's impossibly strained voice to speak again.

"It hurts," he whimpered. All pride was gone; he was just a lost little bird waiting for his father. He was always just a lost bird waiting for his father.

The force exerted when Batman turned the plane around made Nightwing's head spin.

"We have enough gas to get there, thankfully," he said quietly, more to himself than to the obviously preoccupied man sitting next to him. Batman only sped up. Nightwing looked warily behind him, hoping the Gotham police wouldn't have too hard of a time taking care of the problem in their airspace, when he realized Kori was staying behind.

"I will assist here, and then I will help Jason," she said through the communicator, and Nightwing expressed his gratitude to her before turning to Batman.

"Whatever Deathstroke is planning, we'll stop it," he reminded.

Under the cowl, Bruce was dripping with sweat and fear. He felt the need to contradict Nightwing's statement, but didn't know why. "I've been too late for him before."

Dick knew that was the truth.


	13. Chapter 13

Roy couldn't wait for backup to arrive before turning back for Jason. The voice that had come through the link was. . .scary. It was a wake-up call for him, actually. He had had inklings of Jason's fragility, especially after the memory incident, but he pushed them down deep with his other fears of Kori waking up one day and realizing she was League material once. Besides, he used to remind himself, they were good for Jason. A team kept him sane, kept him grounded, kept him away from the memories he couldn't give away.

But Kori was staying behind in Gotham, Gotham had come back to them, and now memories were coursing through his mind, destroying it in the process. Roy sped up, ignoring protests from his burning calves. "Jason!" Arsenal yelled, trying to get a response from somewhere. "Jason!"

Arsenal jumped down to street level and kept running. Once he passed the bikes, he became stealth. Something seemed wrong and too quiet. Jason should have been shuffling, crawling, crying, anything. He turned one more corner, and there was the Red Hood, mask discarded next to him, sitting up on the concrete facing away from Roy.

He was leaning motionlessly on Deathstroke, who was injecting him with something.

Arsenal pulled out an arrow and let it fly quickly. Deathstroke, who was completely preoccupied with giving Jason an overdose of his new drug, was hit in the shoulder. He cursed as he pulled the arrow out and looked at where it originated, but Arsenal had turned back around the corner, climbing the fire escape for higher ground. Deathstroke pulled him by his ankle to the sidewalk, but he twisted in the air and kicked the villain square in the chest, scrambling to get to his feet as Deathstroke staggered back.

"You're too late," Deathstroke said confidently, sizing Arsenal up from his spot mere feet away. Arsenal chanced a glance at his fallen comrade. Jason was completely immobile on the ground, his arms and legs splayed out in snow angel fashion.

Which made Roy realize, Jason had probably never made a snow angel. Arsenal glared at his adversary. "What did you do to him?"

Deathstroke smiled, exuding pride and victory. "I used one of his many traumas against him. I made him what he was before."

Arsenal's eyes didn't betray his confusion, but inside his mind he was scrambling wildly to put everything together. There were too many traumas in Jason's past to target. Like most of the Bat-clan, it was his one great weakness.

"As I said before," Deathstroke sighed, "you're too late. He may not have regressed as far as I'd like, but he's helpless in this state. I'll kill you, then him. No problem." Deathstroke unsheathed a sword.

Arsenal didn't have time to wonder what Deathstroke was talking about before the man charged him. He flipped backwards, putting more distance between the two of them and loosed another arrow, which was sliced harmlessly from the air. He needed backup, fast. Jason was down for now, if not for eternity, and he was trying to outdo the deadliest assassin on the planet.

_Okay, Roy_, he thought to himself. _New tactic._ Suddenly, Arsenal ducked under a sword slice, swept his leg under Deathstroke to knock him down, and ran. He couldn't risk the slow-down that picking Jason up would cause, but Deathstroke didn't have any goons with him and Roy judged he would be safe. His legs still burned from before, but the adrenaline took care of that, so he pushed on, praying reinforcements would soon land.

He was not so lucky. He only got two blocks before Deathstroke caught up and hurled a small knife at his back. Luckily, Arsenal dodged to avoid a blade to the spine, but his right shoulder wasn't as fortunate. The bow clattered uselessly to the ground as he cried out. Arsenal was pushed into the brick of an abandoned building, and the blade was pulled out. He clenched his jaw as his face was ground into the building.

"The only reason you're not dead yet is because it wouldn't make me any money," Deathstroke said. "You're too late for Red Hood. I may not have given him the full dose, but he has regressed enough to seal his fate.'

"See, you keep saying that, and I still have no clue what you mean," Arsenal countered, hoping to buy some sort of time.

Deathstroke took the bait. "I did my homework on your friend. Everyone knows he used to be dead, but no one remembers how he was in a coma on a respirator shortly after crawling out of Hell. Which is the state I _wanted _to put him in before you joined the party."

Arsenal snorted. "You sound like a stalker. Isn't he a little young for you, grandpa?"

"Make all the old jokes you like, _Speedy_," Deathstroke sneered. "You'll be dead long before I-" Deathstroke groaned in pain and released the archer. He was clutching at his chest when Arsenal turned around.

There was the tip of a sword sticking out of it. Suddenly, the sword retracted and Deathstroke fell, still alive but seriously wounded, at the feet of a stony-faced Jason Todd.


	14. Chapter 14

"Holy crap, you're okay!" Roy yelled, his shoulder wound and bleeding face forgotten for the second.

Jason said nothing. Roy studied him, and didn't like what he saw. Jason was standing extremely still, his shoulders somewhat hunched. He seemed to be staring down at his shoes, but his eyes were unfocused, dead. The sword was held loosely in his right hand. Roy also noticed dried blood in a trail down the side of Jason's face, starting at his ears.

Roy swallowed tensely. "Jaybird?" he asked.

Jason looked up at the other man, his posture less hunched. There was a glimmer of recognition, but nothing more, and his face dropped once again to his shoes. Roy slumped against the brick, swore about his shoulder, and closed his eyes to think. Batman was on his way, Starfire was taking care of things in Gotham, and Deathstroke was unconsciously bleeding to death. He and Jason would be okay. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes back up.

Jason was gone. Roy made a sound in the back of his throat somewhere between a wheeze and a scoff. "Jay!" he yelled, and walked out of the alley. "Jay!"

He found his teammate by his motorcycle, rummaging through the saddlebag. "What are you doing?"

Jason turned and walked towards Roy. He had a bandage in his hand, and Roy took it and pressed it to his shoulder wound. "Thanks, buddy," he said as cheerfully as he could muster.

Jason just sat on the ground. His expression never changed. Roy sighed and sat next to him. They waited for reinforcements to arrive.

They were there two minutes after Arsenal and Red Hood sat down. "You're a little late," Roy muttered darkly. Jason didn't look up at the two, but inched closer to Roy. Batman had landed the jet farther away, and came from the direction of their fight with the assassin. He rounded the corner and stood a few feet away.

"Deathstroke is dead," Batman growled.

Roy looked at Dick before responding, knowing that he wouldn't see anger on his face. "We've got bigger problems than killing an evil genius in self defense."

"Not the _point_," Batman growled. "We need an antidote."

"Then _you_ better think of one," Roy yelled, "or your son is staying a vegetable!"

Everyone stopped. Stopped talking, moving, breathing. All eyes focused on Jason. And Jason's eyes focused on nothing. He simply sat, knees drawn up to his chest, face impassive and calm. Peaceful, even. Roy wondered, had Jason always had that baby face lurking under the cunning and angry expression, under the show he put on?

Dick made the first move, walking the rest of the way and crouching in front of Jason. "What happened?" He tentatively put his hand on the younger man's shoulders. No change.

Roy stood up and dusted himself off. Jason's predicament was freaking him out; he needed to move. "It was the drugs. Which means it could wear off, right?"

Batman faltered. The father in him, the part of him that loved and cherished the small boy that had stolen tires, was dying. That part of him was in pain, unimaginable pain. But Batman had to press on, had to be strong and logical. "Judging by the prolonged reaction Jason had earlier, this passing through his system seems unlikely."

Dick gripped Jason's shoulder just a little bit tighter, not willing to hang his head in defeat. Jason still did nothing. "So, what are we looking at for the time being, then? Before we find an antidote, I mean."

And, though no one could tell, Jason's broken mind thought to itself: _Dick. Hope._

"Before Jason was thrown into the Lazarus Pit, he was in a semi-autistic state due to brain damage. He worked on survival instinct and muscle memory." Batman moved no closer. It was only distance that kept him calm. "It seems that his mind has regressed. It's possible we aren't seeing a new drug, but a new antidote to the Pit itself."

"So let's put him back in the Pit!" Roy yelled, and Jason's eyes snapped up to Dick's before he curled his body towards his brother. _No, _he thought, and the word echoed around his mind. _Not yet. Please. __**Stay.**_

"Hey," Dick crooned, smoothing Jason's hair as the boy leaned into him. "It's okay. No Lazarus Pit for you. Can you speak, Jason?" Jason stayed in his position. "Can you look at me, please?"

Still no change.

"We should go. Not that there are any cops in this part of town, but someone's bound to show up." Roy shuffled his feet.

"Nightwing, call Starfire and tell her to wait for us in Gotham. I'll get Deathstroke's body and meet you in the plane."

"No," Nightwing said as he pulled Jason up with him. "You should take your _son_. Deathstroke is _dead_." Jason visibly flinched, so Dick calmed down. "I'll pick up Deathstroke if you want, B. But, for once in your life, just show your boy you care."

Dick didn't wait for an answer. He let go of Jason and brushed past Bruce. Roy jogged after him and began to call Kori.

After they were gone, Batman allowed himself to slump in resignation. "I'm not sure what scares me more," he whispered to Jason, "if you're still in there, or if you're not."

And Jason began to cry.


	15. Chapter 15

Dick and Roy had been fuming when they had seen tears on Jason's face, but both kept quiet about it. Batman doesn't change overnight, they reasoned, and Jason would get the love he needed from brothers, in arms or otherwise. Roy took Jason around the shoulders and waited for Dick to do the same, but the other paused. Glancing warily in Batman's direction, he said, "I'm not sure if Jay is a fan of _any_ Bats right now. You lead him to the jet, Roy."

Roy nodded and led Jason, who didn't struggle. The ride was completely silent, everyone processing their own way, wondering how exactly it was possible and how exactly it could be reversed.

Jason could feel in his heart that the peace with his family he felt now was temporary, and soaked it in as much as he could. He liked being okay around them, liked putting his guard down, even if it was behind the brick wall of his catatonic state. He closed his eyes and slept without the nightmares that usually plagued him. Dick noticed the sheer impassive nature of the expression on his sleeping brother's face. What would have happened, he wondered, if they had found him when he was originally like this? Would he have been happier? _Could_ he be happy in this state?

Dick huffed out a sigh. Too many questions he was too useless to answer. He extended his arm and brushed Jason's hair out of his eyes. Roy looked on silently, and dreaded explaining all this to Kori.

Stepping off the plane proved more difficult to stepping on. While Jason had woken up instantly when the plane landed, one look out the window rooted him to his seat. He had nearly broken Roy's arm when he tried to move him, so that option was out. They all stood in a semi-circle around Jason's seat.

"Do we talk to him?" Roy asked, rubbing his sore wrist.

Dick shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he'll understand. But it's still Jason. And he's kind of a stubborn brat. Right, Jaybird?"

Jason heard, and understood on some level, but the parts of his brain he had left were completely occupied with one thing.

"It's the uniform, I think," Roy said. "He's staring at that case. What does that-" Roy stopped, his eyes widening. He read the plaque aloud. "Jason Todd. A Good Soldier." Roy looked from Jason's tensed form to Batman's tensed form. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. Now I get why he pretends he doesn't love you guys."

"Roy-" Dick started, looking nervously between his mentor and his friend.

"No. That is insane. You guys think it's okay to have your little memorial case and pretend he's still in the ground. Ridiculous."

"I get that you're mad," Dick countered slowly, "and maybe you're right. But yelling isn't going to solve anything. We can talk about this later if you want."

"No. This is _exactly_ what's going to happen. This person that you guys wish didn't exist saved me from being executed. Not Green Arrow, not _Nightwing_," he shoved his index finger in Dick's chest, "the Red Hood. But you would rather remember some little kid that you buried. That's-" Roy fidgeted, the anger inside him making it hard to stand still. All he could see was the druggie he used to be, the picture of him that Ollie had in his mind. "That's unfair," he wilted. It was hard to stay mad staring into Dick's understanding and pitying eyes.

"Now is no time for arguments," a voice boomed from the front of the cockpit. How long Kori had been listening Roy didn't know, but she now stood angrily with her hands placed on her hips. She strode past them. "Alfred informed me of the situation. He allowed me inside." She stopped by Jason's chair and placed a hand on his shoulder. No movement, and his eyes were still glued to his old uniform. "Jason," she said softly, and Dick remembered how gentle she could be when she wanted to be. "I know it's hard to confront a past that was so cruel to you, but don't you think it's time to come in from the outskirts?"

One tear slid down his cheek, and she wiped it away with a sad smile on her face. "Come along, Jason. Let's get you home."

Jason stood up and walked of his own accord. Roy smiled triumphantly at Kori, who scowled back at him. Dick snickered at the exchange until she glared at him too, and they walked behind her egos equally bruised. Batman waited until everyone was out of the jet, and stared at the plaque and case he had put up years ago. Sighing, Bruce pulled his cowl down and exited the plane.

Alfred watched them all sit by the computer in the cave and set his tray of cookies down. "Master Jason," he said, and touched the boy's chin to get him to look up. "Rest assured, once your predicament is fixed, you will still always be welcome here, at your home."

_Home_, Jason thought.

END.

(A.N.: Don't worry! There will be a sequel to this, called "Smile Because It Happened." Also, while I'm going to tag this story as complete, I will be adding a couple of epilogues, so that you can see what becomes of the Outlaws and home life in the manor. I hope everyone enjoyed this story, and thank you so much for all your reviews!)


	16. Epilogue 1

"So, two years sober today," Roy said proudly to the mute sitting at the kitchen table. Roy popped toast into the toaster and turned to face Jason. "Pretty badass, huh? I'm kind of a big deal."

It could have been a sneeze, but Roy definitely heard a snort.

"Yeah, scoffing at my achievements. That's so Jason," Roy mumbled, and couldn't help but smile brightly.

In the two weeks Kori and Roy had been staying at Dick's apartment and making daytrips to the manor, that had become the thing to say. When he would drop a plate after Damian and Tim bickered in front of him, that was "so Jason." When he refused to sleep in his old room, that was "so Jason."

When he gripped that Red Hood helmet, white knuckles stark against the bright red, whenever Bruce decided to show his face, that was definitely Jason. It was weird, but Roy always felt pride when he saw these things.

That didn't mean the whole situation didn't phase him, though. Even Kori, who had taken it all in stride, still found herself shaking some nights, actively seeking Roy out just so that she could hear _someone's_ voice.

Dick had given them the keys and stayed at the manor, telling them they could stay however long they liked, but Kori and Roy knew eventually they would have to go. Gotham wasn't theirs, and if the Outlaws were going to keep up their reputation, they would have to do something worth remembering.

"Are you still going to kill?" Dick asked while Kori was asleep, and Roy thought about it as deeply as he could.

"We didn't kill because of Jason. I killed people before I met him, because before I went to jail I was a real soldier for a while. And Kori is a real warrior, and she's taken lives for good reason. And I think you guys over exaggerate Jason's lethal tendencies. I've never seen him shoot first, I've never seen him shoot someone unarmed or without their own weapons out, I've never seen him kill someone who didn't deserve it. And, even though he has those rules in place, I sill used to see him out in the middle of the night, staring at his hands and talking to the stars. He still does it, stare at his hands, I mean. Like he's looking at the blood stained there. I do it too, sometimes." Roy shrugged, wondering how he could be this honest and this sober at the same time.

"So why do it?" Dick asked, frustrated. "Why not go back to before? Why can't you come back?"

"Look at us right now, Dick. We're not on opposite sides, we're just different shades of gray. It doesn't matter how insane he is, if the Joker had a gun to somebody's head and the police had a sniper in position, they'd take the shot."

"We're-" Dick struggled for reasons. "We're not the cops."

"You're right. And you have no idea how much I admire and respect your chewy moral center, but the only reason your job works is because of people like us."

Dick scoffed, insulted and a bit baffled. "How do you figure that?"

"Everyone had figured out you guys don't kill. Then, all of a sudden, drug dealers start disappearing left and right. The Joker shows back up at Arkham with crowbar bruises and flash burns. Tell me, how much easier is it to get someone to talk now?"

Dick swore aloud and dropped off in silence. He could have sworn a year ago he had all the reasons lined up why Red Hood was wrong. Now, all he knew for sure was that this was all very confusing. He was really tired of confusing. The two of them sat together in the artificial light of Dick's kitchen. Roy looked deeply into his glass of water.

"When did it become so complicated?" Dick asked sadly. And, after the words tumbled out of his mouth, he realized he was sad, sad because this was his best friend once upon a time, and now he was someone who crossed the ultimate line, someone he didn't know and didn't want to be.

"We grew up, I guess," Roy said, and he was sad, too. Accepting, but sad. "I guess we just grew up and all our innocence fell apart." He chanced a look at Dick, who was staring sadly at the closed bedroom door. "I don't like it, you know. Taking someone out permanently. It's my last resort, it's _our_ last resort."

"Are you sure it was Jason's?" Dick asked. They still weren't making eye contact; it was easier to open up without seeing the truth in their eyes. "You didn't see him when he was here. We found a duffel bag with his prints on it. There were 8 severed heads inside. All the lieutenants to every drug operation in Gotham. Severed heads, Roy."

Roy grimaced. "Dude, I shoot arrows. I'm not qualified to talk about this."

Dick smiled, a quick amused smile that never reached his eyes. Then, he was serious again. "I think it was the Lazarus Pit. It can make someone go mad."

"I think it was Gotham." Dick and Roy finally locked eyes. "I think it was seeing you and the old man exactly how you used to be, only this time you actually cared about the kid wearing the booty shorts."

"Hey!" Dick yelled, forgetting about the sleeping alien. "He didn't want me around, okay? I _tried_. But Bruce was being an ass and Jason was this stubborn, stupid kid that thought everything was a game!"

"And what did you think when you started out? What did we _all_ think? We were sixteen, living together in a building shaped like a T, for God's sake! The only difference was that he said what he thought out loud!" Roy's eyes blazed. He wasn't fighting for Jason anymore, he was fighting for all of them. He was fighting for the disenfranchised little boy stuck inside himself and Jason, the one that thought the world of the people around him, before everything fell through. He fought for the boy inside Dick that hadn't been broken all the way through yet, the one he hoped would always be quick with a bad joke and a smile.

"You're right, we all made that mistake. And Jason had to die for us to learn!" Dick flailed his arms wildly. He had stared at that case for too long for it to have no lesson attached. It had to mean something more, because if all that case meant was that his brother was dead, then how could he go on with his life?

"Why did Jason die, Richard?" a smooth voice called from the open doorway. Dick tried not to notice she was wearing one of Roy's shirts and nothing else.

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat that question formed. "He didn't wait for Batman before entering this warehouse. The Joker was there. He. . ." Dick trailed off. Even after all this time it was hard to talk about, hard to remember how easily avoidable it was.

"I know what the Joker did. And Jason informed me that his death came about from disobeying orders. My question was _why._"

Dick thought a second, confused. "Why? I thought I just told you why."

"Why didn't he wait?" Roy asked. He had never heard this story from anyone before. All he knew was that Jay had died and come back with a vengeance.

"This woman, Sheila Haywood, was still inside. He had just found out she was his biological mother."

Kori nodded resolutely. She had known; she had known since that night Jason had told her everything. But even he had not realized why she had asked about his motivation.

"And why is his uniform still in the case?" she asked calmly, even though Roy was looking at the both of them as if they had two heads. "Why did Batman take that uniform that you also wore and set it up for everyone to see?"

"Because," Dick said, his head hanging in guilt and shame. "Because we all died that day. Because the way he felt, the darkness that consumed him, the loss, he needed to see it. Every day."

Roy swallowed thickly, imagining losing a child like that. All he said came back to him. "Damn," was all he could muster.

Kori took only one step closer. "He felt immense pain over Jason's death, as if it all weighed on him. Because he believes he shoulders the whole burden, he believes he is allowed to decide its meaning."

Dick looked up at her. "What?" he asked, voice cracking.

Roy took over. "Jason died, and after he did Bats made him a cautionary tale, because he wanted to protect everyone who was left. Because he never wanted to feel that pain again. But now Jason's back. He's back and all you guys remember is that he died because he didn't listen, not that he died to save a woman he barely knew."

Dick nodded once. "He should get to define what his death meant. Only now he can't talk, he can barely comprehend the world around him. We've lost who he really is, again."

Kori walked the rest of the way and put her hand on Dick's shoulder.

"When did it get so complicated," Dick whispered again.

(A.N.: One more epilogue, then a little hiatus, then the sequel! Again, thank you guys so much for the wonderful reviews, I appreciate every single one. Also, if you're ever in the mood to listen to some songs that are pretty much tailored to Jason Todd, Radical Face is the artist to listen to! Really great music that I actually listen to on repeat when I write =) Thanks again!)


	17. Epilogue 2

Three days later Roy and Kori were gone. They had each given Jason and Dick a hug and left while Bruce was on patrol. Both Arsenal and Starfire avoided him successfully the two and a half weeks they stayed in Gotham, not really sure why they wanted to. Dick hadn't asked and neither had Damian, or Tim when he had flown in that first week.

It seemed like it was a given in this household. If you were Jason's friend, you avoided Bruce Wayne. And, with his personality present or not, Roy and Koriand'r were friends of Jason.

"Take care of him," Roy said, and realized that Bruce probably would have said that to him if he had known Roy was running with Red Hood.

Dick smiled brightly. "We're going to go camping next Saturday. I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it last time."

Roy looked over at Jason, twenty-something year old Jason who looked as calm and indifferent as a sleeping toddler. And he thought to himself: _I stayed, and I found out what was underneath, and it turns out that all Jason boils down to is a kid that likes to go camping._

"Where will you go?" Dick asked, and suddenly Jason looked up from his shoes and shoved a paper to Roy's chest. Kori smiled, confused but amused, and put her hand on his shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's a phone number," Roy said. He studied it for a second. "With a Star City area code." Roy held the paper tightly in his hand and remembered what Jason told him, before everything fell apart. He smiled. "Mind if we take a detour before hitting the safe house, Kori?"

"We'll go anywhere we desire," she answered, and joined Roy by the door. "Goodbye, Jason. Goodbye, Richard. Take care of each other." They walked out the door into the crisp Gotham night.

"We'll see you again soon!" Dick called as the two left, hopping onto Roy's bike and heading east towards the highway and Star City. Towards home, at least for one of them. Dick looked behind him, and Jason was watching them go as well, with glassy eyes and a small spark of recognition.

"Gotham gets kind of boring, doesn't it?" Dick asked Jason, who was following him to the kitchen. "I mean, you're more a child of Gotham than I am, and even you had the good sense to get some time away."

Jason sat down at the table showing toast in his mouth. Dick knew his brother had never gotten over his starving origins, and they stayed with him as instinct even when all else fell away. _Child of Gotham indeed,_ Dick thought.

"Hey," he said loudly, and Jason's head snapped up a little. He was listening. "How about, when you get better, I run with the Outlaws for a month or something. You can handle not killing anyone for that long, right?"

Jason looked up, _really_ looked up. Dick's breath caught in his throat. Mouth twitching, Jason formed a small smile. Then, he dropped the bread and took his brother's hand, staring into Dick's eyes the whole time, as if to say _I'll remember that, I'll remember everything, and you should, too._

When Dick woke up the next morning at eleven and found that Jason was gone, along with some of the pantry and the emergency grocery money, he realized he really should have known this was coming.

He still put their camping trip on the calendar for next Saturday, though. He'd remember.


End file.
